25. Less
Less
“Carter's not our guy.”
Ego drops the bomb like he's announcing the weather.
I stare at him.
“What the fuck did you say?”
My brother-in-arms doesn't even flinch.
“Carter's not the stalker.”
“Impossible.”
Frustration is the word of the day, and I'm fucking feeling it.
Because for the last week, I've been absolutely convinced Carter Bishop was behind everything.
The weird hang up calls and DMs.
The creepy voicemails.
The accident.
Hell, the bastard already gave me enough reasons to hate him.
The obsessive behavior.
The constant calls to try to book her again for a private concert.
And the way Amanda tenses every time his name comes up?
Yeah, I hate him.
I was so ready to go after him for this.
But now?
Ego slides a tablet across the conference room table.
“Look at the timestamps.”
I snatch it up.
Security footage.
Airport records.
Flight manifests.
“Carter flew into New York after Amanda left Los Angeles,” Ego explains.
“Then?”
“He caught a connecting flight to England.”
Jack, who's leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, nods.
“We confirmed it with immigration records.”
“Fuuuck,” I growl.
Because they're right.
I hate it.
But they're right.
No matter how much I want Carter to be the bad guy, the son of a bitch physically can't be in two places at once.
Which means—it’s someone else.
Someone smarter.
Someone quieter.
Someone who's still out there.
And I fucking hate that more.
The conference room at Volkov Towers is full.
Noel's at the head of the table.
Kai's sprawled sideways in his chair because apparently he has no bones.
Ego is reviewing files.
Jack looks perpetually angry.
Which, to be fair, is just Jack's face.
“Okay,” Noel says. “Now that Less has finished mentally murdering the wrong guy, let's move on.”
“Funny.”
“I know.”
He points at the screen.
“The new surveillance package at the theater is live.”
I force myself to pay attention.
Sort of.
Because if Amanda's working there?
I want the best.
Which is exactly why I'd upgraded everything and paid the difference myself with Chance Madoc's blessing.
The man owns the theater.
I just fortified it.
New cameras.
Motion sensors.
Restricted access.
Biometric locks.
The works.
Fuck you, it’s not overkill.
Not where Rusty's concerned.
My phone vibrates.
I glance down.
Immediately relax.
Home System Notification.
Amanda Perkins Residence
Resident Entry Confirmed.
She's home.
Safe.
For now.
Some of the tension eases from my shoulders.
Unfortunately, Noel notices.
“Are you paying attention?”
I look up.
“What?”
“We all got girls to go home to, fucker. You ain't special.”
Kai snorts.
“Actually, he kinda is.”
“Shut up, Montego.”
“No, seriously,” Kai says. “The guy moved into her condo after like three days.”
“Seven, but we have history,” I correct automatically.
The room goes silent.
Then—Ego bursts out laughing.
Jack actually smirks.
And Noel pinches the bridge of his nose.
“Jesus Christ.”
“What?”
“Seven days?”
“She invited me. Sorta.”
“He just means she didn’t say no,” Ego snarks.
“That's not helping your case,” Kai says.
“I brought boxes.”
“Oh my God, bro, you whipped?”
“Shut the fuck up. Like you’re not.”
“Fair. But did you leave anything at your place?” Ego asks.
“Not much.”
Kai nearly falls out of his chair laughing.
“It’s a wonder Amanda hasn't run yet.”
“She won't be running from me. Not ever.”
The words leave my mouth without thought.
Without hesitation.
Because she won't.
She's mine.
And I'm hers.
Even if she's scared.
Even if she needs time.
Even if she won't let me make promises yet.
Noel points at me.
“See?”
“See what?”
“That right there.”
“What?”
“You got the look.”
Kai nods.
“Definitely got the look.”
Jack grunts.
“Poor woman.”
“Fuck all of you.”
The room laughs.
And honestly?
It feels good.
It feels right.
For a second, no one says a fucking thing.
Then Noel taps the table.
“Back to business.”
Everything sobers immediately.
“Whoever this is, they knew Amanda's schedule.”
“Knew the theater.”
“Knew enough to sabotage equipment.”
“Knew enough to avoid every camera before Less upgraded the system.”
The room falls silent.
Because now we're talking about someone patient.
Calculated.
Dangerous.
“Could be somebody from theater staff,” Jack says.
“Could be,” Ego agrees.
“Could be somebody from the past,” Kai adds.
“Or somebody watching from farther away,” Noel says.
I look at the board.
At the pictures.
At the timelines.
And all I feel is rage.
Cold rage.
Because while we've been celebrating and reconnecting—someone else has been planning.
Watching.
Waiting.
Quiet doesn't mean gone.
It doesn't mean dead.
It means hidden.
And I won't rest until I find the son of a bitch.
“Less.”
I look up.
Noel's watching me carefully.
“Don't do anything stupid.”
I bark out a laugh.
“Kane, you know me better than that.”
Every man in the room stares.
Kai snorts.
“You're kidding, right?”
Ego shakes his head.
“Our boy's in love. He's completely irrational now.”
“Am not.”
“Yeah, okay, buddy. Tell yourself that as your moving all your shit into her place after like five seconds of seeing her again.”
“She likes me there.”
“You installed security cameras didn’t you?”
“For safety! And only in common areas.”
“You also paid for a Broadway theater security upgrade.”
“Again, it is for her safety, fuckwad.”
“You tracked her grocery delivery.”
“That was one time! And I had to vet the driver.”
Noel sighs heavily.
“Dear God.”
Then his expression hardens.
“Listen to me.”
The room quiets.
“We will find this guy. No freelancing,” he instructs. “No vigilante bullshit. No disappearing. Understood?”
I nod reluctantly.
Because I trust Noel.
I trust this team.
But deep down?
There's a truth I can't say out loud.
Because whoever this bastard is—whoever thinks he can threaten Amanda—I won't be happy until he's dead.
And that's the part I keep to myself.